


I Have No Mouth And I Need To Scream

by Velocity_Owl87



Series: Qui Gon's Parallel Life [6]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Abduction, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Body Horror, Captivity, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Implied/Referenced Brainwashing, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Memory Alteration, Mind Control Aftermath & Recovery, Mind Manipulation, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Politics, Relationship(s), Torture, Trauma, Unresolved Emotional Tension, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-26
Updated: 2017-12-13
Packaged: 2019-02-07 04:02:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,389
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12832869
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Velocity_Owl87/pseuds/Velocity_Owl87
Summary: General Kenobi and General Skywalker finally capture their most implacable enemy and deal the Separatists a blow.It should have been that simple. It was until Obi Wan got intelligence that their enemy wasn't all that he seemed to be.Something that they found out when Obi Wan broke down his shields and looked inside his mind. And found more than he had bargained for.





	1. Brother You'll Reach Inside Yourself Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> This was loosely inspired by "Silent Scream" and also by "Eagles Brood" by Jack Whyte. I admit that I put Obi Wan and Qui Gon through the wringer and reading the other story inspired me to write this, since I was curious to see Obi Wan dealing with loss and then with a different sort of grief and then coming to some kind of resolution and peace. Well, as much as can be had in the Star Wars Universe.

He woke up when the door to his room ( _cell_ ) slid open silently.

That was the signal that he was needed.

He was already dressed, no need to waste time on those trivialities.

He was on his feet in moments, moving from sleep to wakefulness without a moment of transition. He had learned his routine well, pain being a strong motivator to keep to his Master’s instructions.

The only other thing he needed to get ready was lying on the durasteel table beside his sleeping couch. He picked up his saber, a gift from his master and clipped it to his belt in a move that was second nature to him. How or why that was the case, he didn't know. All he knew was that it had always been this way.

The cloak was next, followed by the mask that covered his lower face. Only the upper half of his face was left uncovered.

He preferred it that way. He had no desire to look at his uncovered face any longer than he had to.

He stood and waited for his Master’s instructions, his gaze fixed on the ground before him. His master didn’t like it when their gazes met. He bore the marks of earlier rebellions and had taken the lesson to heart after the last time.

His Master had been well pleased with his compliance and had gifted him with the cell and his own battalion. He still wasn’t sure if he was pleased or pained over the reward.

He had long made himself bury those kinds of thoughts and questions. They only led to anguish and more spells in Bacta tanks after his Master would tear down his shields to fix the error he felt through their frayed and forcefully repaired bond. It was a pain beyond comprehension, being torn apart and put together once again and he had learned to not incur that punishment if he could help it.

It was the one thing that could compel him to do his Master’s bidding. Death didn’t phase him at all, making him be trusted to lead at the head of his battalion to slaughter anyone that got in his way. He was a cloaked shadow, a harbinger of death. His opponents feared him when they knew he was on the battlefield.

He didn’t notice it. He did his job, wielding his saber through enemy troops until he was given the order to retreat, get medical help if necessary, nourishment, and return to his cell.

He would only be let out for meals and a strict training schedule, or to give small input into a campaign that his Master and some shadowy council of aides prepared. A council and an enemy he had not been given the name of. Or was allowed to.

He hadn’t asked and hadn’t tried in...He didn’t know how long. He had stopped keeping track of anything years prior. His mind was too clouded, too fogged with his Master’s influence and the only time his mind was clear was when he was training or fighting, getting the forms right and slaughtering droids and sentient beings.

Yet even then, it was just a cold clearness of battle strategies and the impetus to win and win it all.

Life had no meaning to him, his moves mechanical and in compliance with any commands his master imparted to him.

“We have work to do. They have been spotted. Your men are ready. Destroy them.”

He raised his head then.

It is the only time that he can look at his Master and it is still unnerving to see yellow in his eyes instead of the dark brown he had been used to before.

His eyes widened a fraction at the thought, but he dismissed it right away.

His Master always had yellow eyes. It was simply a stray thought, gleaned from somewhere he still hadn’t figured out.

It didn’t matter at that moment.

He had been given his orders.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement and left the room, careful to not brush his Master, who for some reason, always felt icy to him. Something that he knew was wrong, but had no idea as to why it felt like that.

Yet another mystery from his past that he had no real desire or time to contemplate. He had a battle to win. That was all that mattered to him.

~*~*~*~*~

He huffed in anger as he was dragged onto the ramp by six clone troopers. He fought them every step of the way and enjoyed their anger as they forced him to move. Despite being injured, he was still a handful. Despite the wound that had him internally groaning, he still fought them.

They may have got him, but he wasn’t going to make it easy for them to subdue him.

His eyes narrowed as he kicked out at one of the troopers and connected with his knee, making the trooper fall to his knees. He lashed out again, but an electrical shock made his vision go blurry and his muscles twitch.

It was only then that they were able to drag him to the ship and throw him into the hold.

He heard them talk about the unusual arrangement, but couldn’t glean much of anything until his hearing came back and he stopped twitching.

They left him like that, lying there until he found enough strength to sit up and continue his struggle.

He yanked at the bonds that held him captive, fighting against them until his muscles gave up against the tight bindings that they had forced upon him. He had hoped to keep up the struggle until they broke, but it was futile. He had already gone past his expansive limits and he was sure that they had slapped a dampener  the minute that they had managed to capture him.

A capture that he was still trying to figure out. Just like he was still trying to figure out how the Republic fighters had managed to rip a hole through half of his battalion after shooting him down.

How had they known he would be there? The plans had been water tight. No one except himself and his Master knew of it. So how?

It didn’t matter right now. He had to get back to base. He wasn’t sure if his battalion had survived or gotten away. He had lost quite a bit of time between being shot, being hit in the back of the head, patched up and then running to make his escape. Something that was quite unsuccessful when he only made it a few meters before he was ambushed.

It was then that he had discovered his abilities had been inhibited and he was more than likely going to stand judgement in front of the Senate and the kriff damned Jedi.

His lip curled up at the thought of the Senate despite the pain that was working its way through him at the moment. He could feel the blood dripping from the ghastly wound in his side and forced himself to not think about it.The Bacta patches only just had contained the worst of it. He wasn’t going to die from that wound. It could be fixed, despite the fact that it was leaving him breathless and ready to cry out with it.

But he didn’t dare.

He kept quiet despite the burning agony in his side and the rage of being their captive brought him.

He had lived through worse, that was what he told himself, his voice now a thin thread in the silence that he had been forced into ever since that fateful day. He had lived through worse and endured more indignities and pain and humiliation than anyone ever should. He would be able to live through this.

He would force himself to do so. Even if it killed him in the effort.

So he bided his time. His Master would get him out. He had absolute faith that it would happen.

He just had to be patient and not bleed out on the durasteel floor of the ship they held him in.

He yanked on the bonds once again, giving up when they twisted and cut into his wrists, making them bleed. He hissed and held himself still. The last thing he needed was to lose more blood and ensure his death on this godforsaken Republic ship. It wouldn’t do him any good if he was at death’s door when his Master got to him.

He was the best General that his Master had and dying while being captured wasn’t going to do anyone any favours. So he grit his teeth and waited.

Luckily, he didn’t have long to wait.

The doors opened with a hiss, making him look up to the two people that had entered the holding cell.

Jedi Generals.

He recognised the tall one. The poster boy of the Republic Forces. Skywalker.

The red-haired one...He couldn’t place at all.

He, out of the both of them, _felt_ faintly familiar. The reddish hair was making flashes of half-recognised memories flash through his brain. Skywalker, the tall one with messy hair and dark blue eyes was making _something_ stir in the depth of his mind. A memory, perhaps, of a desert planet and deep blue eyes looking up at him in pleading hope.

Memories of a man and of a place that he was sure he had no clue about. Memories that kept coming as the reddish haired one stumbled forward and dropped to his knees in front of him. The man held his face gently, tenderly and it was all he could do to stay still and not flinch back at the touch.

“Are you sure it is him?”

General Skywalker asked, his voice raw with impatience, disbelief, and _hope._

It tasted foreign on his tongue and he had to puzzle out as to why this young general was hopeful, out of all things. They had nothing but animosity between them. Hope wouldn’t be something that he and Skywalker would share. A battlefield, yes. But not that.

Especially not when they were on opposite sides of the war. Skywalker was a force that he had worked for years to neutralise. Especially since he was the one that always foiled his Master’s plans and made the war be a war of attrition, gaining them nothing.

General Skywalker was always the thorn in his Master’s side. The one that he was always finding himself engaging, but never quite besting.

They had a stalemate that both had been desperate to break.

He would have smiled if he could have at the realisation that stalemate was over and done with. General Skywalker had won.

For now.

Once he had gotten himself out of this situation, he’d make sure to pay General Skywalker back. With interest.

The red-haired Jedi who was still cradling his head pressed his palm against his forehead.

Blue-Green eyes met his and for the first time in a long time, he felt afraid.

“We’ll know in a moment.”

He replied softly as he closed his eyes and gathered the Force around himself.

He struggled against the grip of the Jedi and the bonds again, the fear growing at what was going to come next.

Yet he still wasn’t prepared for the onslaught through the shields that he was adamant were impenetrable.

It was then that he screamed.

A raw, brutal, sound that filled everything before he was let go to collapse into the arms of-

_“Obi...Obi Wan?”_

Obi Wan’s eyes cracked at the question and he nodded.  General Skywalker made some kind of strangled exclamation at that, but he ignored it.

He knew what had been missing all those years now that the shields in his mind had been weakened and most of the blocks his Master had placed there crumbled.

His mind was finally clear. The bond between bright and _alive_.

_“Yes! Oh Qui Gon! Qui Gon! It is me. It’s Obi Wan.”_

He heard Obi Wan’s voice for the first time in a decade, breaking the last of the shields in his mind, letting the deluge of memories and horrors sweep forth, overwhelming him.

And it was then that Qui Gon Jinn finally screamed outloud.

 


	2. This is where we begin, on our way home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tahl finds some disturbing information about a new and ruthless foe: General Scath. Information that has her and Master Unduli travelling to the battlefront to inform General Kenobi. A task she'd rather not undertake, but needs to. 
> 
> She thought she was prepared for any eventuality, yet the end result still manages to crack her as much as it cracks Obi Wan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second vignette that focuses on how exactly they come across Qui Gon Jinn. Tahl, Satine Kryze, and Luminara Unduli also make an appearance in here. I'm not a fan of them having to die, so here, they're still around doing their own thing.
> 
> There is no real gore in this part. That will come in the last two parts. This is more of an introspection and angst/comfort part focusing on how the ones closest to Qui Gon would react to getting him back after being on opposite sides of the war.   
> Scath-Gaelic for "Shadow." Titles come from "On Our Way Home" by Empire of the Sun.

Tahl put her hands down on her desk and took a deep breath to center herself as she let the electronic voice drone on.

“Where did you come across this?”

She asked, her voice cutting through the electronic voice that abruptly stopped at the sound of her own voice. 

There was a tell-tale shift of cloth rustling as her visitor shifted in her seat. 

“On Serenno. These are the latest reports that we got.”

Luminara Unduli replied as she shifted yet again in her seat. 

Tahl worked her jaw as she traced her fingertip down the last datapad she had been compiling with one of the apprentices. 

“We weren’t sure if they were leads worth following. Not after Geonosis.”

Luminara explained quietly. Tahl’s lips pressed themselves into a thin line at that. 

“You could have still told  _ me. _ ”

Luminara sighed and sat back in her chair. Tahl could imagine her rubbing her eyes as she composed a reply to that. 

“And what? Give you and Obi Wan false hope that it could be possible? You theoretically  _ could _ follow the lead. But Obi Wan?”

Tahl’s face hardened at the mention of Obi Wan. She hadn’t considered him in the equation and had more or less settled for cool civility after the whole Melida/Daan situation. As much as she didn’t want to admit it to herself, he  _ did _ deserve to know if there was any weight to the reports. 

“Look, I know there’s history between you, but we couldn’t afford to let anyone know until we were sure. And now with this new General Scath...We know.”

Tahl raised an eyebrow at the name. She had heard the news of this General Scath, after Ventress had been pushed out of the picture. He was worse than Ventress and Grievous had been, cutting a swath of death through their forces with ease and almost no emotion. 

He was, most guessed, Force null. No actual signature came from him and he moved like a robot, a mask hiding any expression of a pale, blank-eyed face. He was as silent as Death and even just hearing the descriptions second hand had made her shiver. 

“We have to tell them.”

Luminara nodded, standing up and holding a hand out to Tahl. 

“Transport is waiting.”

~*~*~*~*~*~

Obi Wan wrapped his hands around the tin mug, wincing slightly at the heat that got through his gloves and into the raw, scraped up flesh of his palms. The battle had been painfully won and there was only enough time to take a breather before gathering Cody, Anakin, and Ahsoka up and meeting with the Duchess Satine Kryze as to where to go from there. 

At the thought of the meeting, his cheeks warmed up slightly. He was looking forward to talking to the sharp minded Duchess. Although the meetings themselves were not as pleasant as he would have liked, they were still engaging and served to fill the need to be with someone that was not of the Order and was not watching his every move for guidance and orders. The fact that she was independent of him was as much of a draw as was her clear eyes and plush mouth. 

He lowered his face and closed his eyes, releasing those thoughts to the Force. The last thing he needed in the middle of a battlefield was to have Anakin and Ahsoka ask even more invasive questions than they usually did. He knew that they were only concerned for him, but he still wasn’t ready to admit to even himself what he was feeling in regards to the Duchess.

He had promised himself after Naboo he’d not let himself ever be open to having those feelings of attachment ever again. The Code, as far as he saw it, had it right. Attachments were forbidden to Jedi for a reason and he had learned that reason in the most painful way imaginable. 

Despite the years that had passed, he still felt his grief about losing his Master. 

At the thought of Master Jinn, his hands tightened around the metal cup despite the pain that it caused him. He welcomed it though, focusing on that rather than the dull, uncomfortable heartache that thinking about his old Master brought him. He rubbed his chest in an effort to ease that pain that never really went away since the moment that he had come to with Darth Maul lying in pieces at the bottom of the Generator and his Master’s saber lying forlornly a few feet away from the edge. 

He carried it with him, one of the few mementoes that never left his side and he touched it now, hiding inside the sleeve of his robe. It wasn’t the same as having Qui Gon Jinn with him, but it was enough to provide a balm when the pain and nostalgia threatened to overwhelm him. He touched it now, feeling the grief subside just enough to let him focus on the here and now. He needed a clear mind. The war would pick up again and he needed this last moment to clear his mind and regain his focus before he was called on to be General Kenobi once more. 

He lifted his cup and drank the bitter tea. Hosin wasn’t exactly his favourite, but it wasn’t as if he could get anything else in the middle of an active battlefield. He drank Sapir whenever he was at the temple, the flavour a bittersweet reminder of when he made it to comfort his Master during the difficult time after Tahl and Melida/Daan. It had been comfort for both of them, Obi Wan had realised after so many years after. They both had been badly hurt by each other and by the world at large and it had been a painstaking and delicate process to rebuild the bond between them again. 

It had worked and Sapir had symbolised that reconciliation between them. Later on, it had come to encompass Tahl herself, albeit on rare occasions. Obi Wan never broached the reason why that was the case. Nor did he comment on the sad, distant look that his Master would get after those rare visits were concluded. He had felt the grief of his Master, but didn’t want to ever bring it to light. 

Obi Wan didn’t think it was his place to talk to his Master about his clear attachment to Master Tahl. It was an unspoken understanding between them. The other reason was simply that he only wanted to support his Master and ease his pain. Something he knew was working whenever he felt the small pulses of contentment and something perilously close to love coming from their bond. 

They never spoke of it and Obi Wan had, throughout all of the following years, regretted that omission very much. More than anything that he had faced in the past, it was the one thing that he could never truly release to the Force or find some closure on. He had vowed to not make the same mistake with Anakin and had, much to his relief, succeeded. Somewhat. 

He gave a mirthless grin at that and took a longer swallow, wincing at the taste. He’d need to finish it off before it became even bitterer in his mouth. He also needed to get back to his duties. As it was, he had taken far too much time than strictly necessary. 

Wincing slightly at the realisation, he took one last swallow and tossed the dregs to the partially frozen ground and stood up, his joints stiff from sitting down in the cold with a less than adequate robe. He went to the makeshift canteen and put the empty cup onto the table, moving towards his makeshift headquarters. 

When he entered the tent, he wasn’t surprised to see Anakin, Cody, and Ahsoka standing there. It wasn’t out of the ordinary to see them there. Nor was it out of the ordinary to feel their nervous energy of the adrenaline comedown after such a close battle. He didn’t pay it much mind and was getting ready to pick up his Datapad to discuss strategy when he finally clued onto what was different. 

Instead of the Duchess and her delegation being in his quarters, it was two Jedi Knights he hadn’t seen in years. 

“Master Tahl? Master Unduli? What brings you to the front?”

He was completely flummoxed as to why Master Tahl of all people was out of the Archives. 

She had retreated there, more or less, once Qui Gon had disappeared. He had to admit that he hadn’t really ever sought her out much unless it was strictly necessary. There was still too much unspoken resentment between them that hadn’t softened despite the all the time that had passed between them. They reminded each other of the man that forever stood between them. Qui Gon’s ghost couldn’t be laid to rest between them. 

Not in the way that it had been with Anakin and as much as Obi Wan would have wanted it to be different between then, he knew that some hurts ran too deep. There wouldn’t be peace between them. Maybe if Qui Gon-

He shut that thought off quickly. Qui Gon was gone. There was no coming back from that. His beloved Master wouldn’t ever return and he and Tahl would just have to work with that knowledge and hopefully enter some kind of truce someday.

Master Tahl smiled, but it wasn’t a true smile. A polite and distant smile that only just covered up a deep despair that Obi Wan could sense. He swallowed and waited for her to explain why she was here, rather than on Coruscant amongst her archives and research.

“Obi Wan...Qui Gon is here.”

~*~*~*~*~

Tahl raised her head when she heard footsteps and stood up. The rustle of heavy fabric to her left told her that the Duchess Kryze had done the same. Both waited until the footsteps stopped before speaking. 

“Is it him then?”

She queried through lips that had gone numb. The Duchess put her hand on Tahl’s arm in a subtle show of support as they waited for the reply. 

“It is and isn’t.”

Was Obi Wan’s broken reply, making Tahl’s brow furrow at that non-answer. 

“That is not an answer, Kenobi. Is that Qui Gon Jinn that you have found, or is it some kind of trick from the Separatists to distract us from the war?”

She demanded, all aloofness gone as she waited for the closure that she needed to either grieve or rejoice after all those years.

Obi Wan sighed heavily. 

“Maybe it will be easier to take you to him. Come.”

They walked past the main quarters, past the medical bay and into the holding area that was reinforced with durasteel. 

“Will he get the medical help he needs here?”

The Duchess asked as they moved along at a brisk pace. 

“He will. This is a precaution in case he is not merely General Scath and is  _ Darth _ Scath.”

Tahl shuddered at the title and as much as it pained her to know that Qui Gon was a prisoner of war, she knew that they couldn’t be too careful. He was, until verified, their enemy. 

They entered a room and Tahl heard the Duchess sharp exclamation of surprise.

“What...What did they do to him? His face…His neck...How could they do...”

She trailed off and Tahl had never cursed her blindness as much as she cursed it at that moment. 

Even the Force was failing her, since she could only pick up stray fragments of a signature that had been almost as familiar as her own or Bant’s years ago. It was just broken filaments that she could barely feel and that made tears come to her eyes. 

It was him. Yet it wasn’t. Only an echo of the strong Living Force signature she had known before everything had gone to kriff in the universe. She clenched her fists and focused on the pain of her nails cutting into her palms. She wouldn’t break down. Not here. 

Beside her, Obi Wan’s signature was filled with sorrow so deep, she could have choked on it.

“I don’t quite know what they did to him, Tahl. Not yet. We’d need to piece it together. Sift through the rubble of what is left behind.”

He confirmed softly. 

“And then?”

She choked out. 

“And then we either have Qui Gon Jinn or we have the barely put together pieces of General Scath and a bargaining chip. That’s all.”

Tahl couldn’t help the tears that coursed down her face then at his resigned whisper. There was only the slightest bit of hope in his words and despite all that had stood between them, she couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for the man he was now and the boy he had been. 

She had lost a potential partner. He had lost not just his Master. But his father.

This was worse than having Qui Gon Jinn dead. Much worse.

They could bury a corpse with certainty.

They couldn’t do the same with General Scath. 

They could only wait and let the Force decide.


	3. The Former Things Have Passed Away Beyond. So Get Us Home.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi Wan expends himself for Qui Gon's sake, hoping that it will be worth it in the end. While Qui Gon starts to piece his fractured self together again.

_Obi Wan came to again on a chair and covered his bloodshot eyes with a badly shaking his hand. He looked around and noticed he wasn’t in the same room as Qui Gon, but was on the outside waiting hall. Qui Gon himself was unaware due to Obi Wan’s healing and medications to keep him from lashing out in pain. He hit Obi Wan in the face and it hadn’t been a soft blow. Qui Gon was a big man and strong. Obi Wan knew he’d be nursing a black eye for at least a few days._

_That was the last of his concerns. He only had healed maybe half of Qui Gon’s mind and there was so much to go. And they didn’t have enough time. And he wasn’t sure if he had enough Life Force to finish the job._

_Already, the Duchess and Anakin reported that the Separatists were back on the defensive. He had to get out in the battlefield to meet them the next time they attacked. Even though he was all too aware that Qui Gon should be sent to the temple, he had refused to let him go. Not when there was so much work to do and not enough strength and energy to do so._

_Obi Wan felt drained and nearly depleted at the effort that he had expended in delving into his former Master’s mind. A mind that he was utterly surprised was still functional after all of the trauma it had been through. It was seeing these shoots of what Qui Gon used to be that made him all the more determined to not send him off just yet._

_Even if his mind was, to put it plainly, a kriffing mess. He was actually surprised that their old bond was still there. Even though it was a thin and delicate bond, it was enough to become active again the moment that Obi Wan had found the blocks corralling it from the rest of Qui Gon’s mind._

_He had collapsed after that. Right in Anakin’s hands the moment that it had flared to bright life, dragging the last bit of his own strength of it in order to bring itself to life. It made Qui Gon give another one of those hideous noises-Something between a shout and an animalistic howl of pure agony._

_An agony that neither Obi Wan or Anakin himself had any shielding against, making both of them topple to the ground._

_Obi Wan thought that he must have lost consciousness for a split second, the sound that Qui Gon made horrific enough to make him all too aware that he’d hear it in his nightmares for years to come. One moment he was on the ground with Anakin’s arms around him and the next he was sitting in a chair with Anakin holding him steady while Tahl and Luminara whispered in the corner and Satine had a cup of something warm in her hands to give him._

_“Obi Wan! How are you feeling?”_

_Anakin asked, his blue eyes wide and concerned in his somewhat pale face. His scar stood out even more against the pale backdrop of his skin. The pulse on his neck jumped as he looked Obi Wan over, not letting him go until he had seen a sign that told him Obi Wan would be fine._

_“I’m exhausted...But I will be fine, Anakin. It took more energy than I was expecting to at least break some of the blocks Tyrannus put in his mind to control him.”_

_Anakin’s face went from flimsi pale to  bright red as he realised what Tyrannus had done to create General Scath out of the Jedi Qui Gon Jinn._

_Obi Wan reached out and put his hand on Anakin’s shoulder in an effort to calm him and prevent him from doing something foolish. Like charging out to find Dooku and getting himself killed._

_Anakin took a deep breath and made a valiant effort to calm himself down._

_“I wasn’t going to, Obi Wan. Not at this time. Give me some credit at least.”_

_Obi Wan smiled faintly at the protestations._

_“He put blocks in Qui Gon’s mind?”_

_Tahl queried in a wavering voice. Obi Wan nodded and accepted the cup of caf from the Duchess Satine._

_“Can he be brought back? Is there enough of him remaining there?”_

_Obi Wan closed his eyes for a moment as he checked the bond, which was pulsing green and bright like he remembered. The old ache no longer aching hollowly as it had been. Despite not being sure about the ruined shields and the scarred pathways, the fact that the bond quickly repaired itself gave him enough hope that his Master would return._

_Maybe with some damage, but he would return._

_“He was always there. He just needs to find his way back.”_

-Qui Gon was shivering and shaking on the bed of the room that they had shoved him in after Obi Wan had gone into his mind. He mused dreamily if it was from the pain medications that he was shivering and shaking. Or was it withdrawal from everything? He didn’t care enough to find out. All he knew was that he had been shoved in this room after that dramatic meeting and he had just come to due to his body betraying him somewhat. He was painfully aware that he had lost time. How _much_ time exactly, he couldn’t really guess.

He knew that it had been a significant amount of time, since the throbbing, badly patched up wound in his side was healed to pink skin. He wasn’t wearing the dreary sable uniform that had been forced on him for as long as he could recall. Instead, he was wearing a soft beige tunic and trousers that felt almost as if he wasn’t wearing anything.

He lay under several thick blankets that had been piled on him while he had been out, his hair over the pillow and softer than it had been in a very long time. It was short still, something that had made Obi Wan react after their minds had separated and their bond had woven itself together again.

His mouth twitched when he thought about that, making him close his eyes and look inward to the farthest corner of his mind. An area that had always fascinated his Mas-Dooku and had caused him countless hours of paralysing agony whenever he had those “lapses”.

When he saw the bright pulsing line edged in blue, he finally understood the reason for his Mas-Dooku’s blocks and manipulations. The psychic and physical ones that would leave him waking up in Bacta and disoriented enough to need downtime until he was shoved back onto the battlefield to slaughter-

He closed his eyes and pressed his hands to his eyes to shut out the memories of those that had fallen under his saber.

_He didn’t know what planet this was. Only that it needed to be secured for his Master. It didn’t matter who got in his way. Only that they had to be eliminated._

_He squinted at the sun and calculated that he would need a few hours to cut through the troops, grab the data, and get out._

_He looked at his second in command, who nodded in understanding. They had developed their own non-verbal communication and despite a few glitches, they had more or less made it work. He gestured and his second in command hefted his gun and went forth with the droids in the first volley._

_He moved in front of them, his cloak billowing with his quick movements, his lightsaber a red beacon as he led his droid troops against the clones that were pouring down to meet them._

_No doubt the Jedi generals were right behind them, their own sabres at the ready as he and his troops kept moving in an inexorable force of destruction._

_He didn’t know who fired first, only that it happened._

_He vaguely heard the plasma hit flesh and the terrible guttural sound of the first registered death. It didn’t make him flinch, but it gave him a slight headache and brought a prickling to his eyes as he felt the life fade and rejoin the force. He didn’t know why he felt that slight vague grief._

_It was a Clone Trooper and an enemy. He didn’t have time to spare pity for it._

_Yet it still bothered him. Even more so when the deaths started coming fast at thick._

_Some at the hands of his forces._

_Some at his own hands._

_He was always relieved that he wore black. The blood didn’t show up as bright as when he used to wear the tan-_

_He shook his head and jumped back when a blaster bolt missed his head by mere centimetres. He narrowed his eyes at the culprit as he rushed forward, sweeping his weapon in a tight arc that took off his attacker’s hands and then his head._

_He didn’t bother to look back and ignored the spike of pain the death caused._

_He had an objective to fulfill._

_Another soldier rushed him and he simply crushed their windpipe, his eyes narrowing at the gagging, choking sound that abruptly stopped. It was silent for a split second, before he dropped the body and kept on moving. His breathing was still steady and he focused on the next opponent, his sabre buzzing as he jammed it upwards into a helmet. The stench of singed flesh and armour wafted over, but he ignored it._

_He trudged through the broken bodies and the scent of blood and entrails, moving closer to the brown clad figure with the-_

The light touch at his shoulder made him jump and nearly fall off the bed. Only a last minute grab at the mattress prevented that. He sat up, looking for who had touched him.

Obi Wan was standing there, his hand slowly moving to his side to telegraph his intent. There was a bowl of sweet mush with fruits in it and a glass of water on the wooden bedside table and it wasn’t hard to put two and two together for Qui Gon.

What was hard was to see the pain in those blue-green eyes and the false mask of cheer that Obi Wan had forced his face into to mask it. It was an old trick that Qui Gon himself had taught the adolescent-No, man- standing in front of him. He felt the echo of pain at seeing it employed in his presence.

_“How it did end up like this?”_

Obi Wan’s eyes widened a fraction and Qui Gon wondered if he had heard the question, yet the expression was smoothed over quite rapidly, making him wonder if it was just another quirk of his mind as it waded through the dissipating fog, the fractured, and still broken planes of his damaged mind.

“Hello Qui Gon. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Qui Gon raised an eyebrow and shook his head as he re-arranged himself on the bed so that he was sitting with the blankets pooled around his crossed legs. He was still chilled and the idea of putting his bare feet on the duraconcrete floor made him flinch. He could endure it. Had endured it plenty of times in the past, but now that he had a choice, he wasn’t keen on doing so.

Obi Wan reached up and stroked his beard, the sight jarring to Qui Gon, since the image of the beardless boy was superimposed on the face of the man he had become. It was those moments, were the past and the present collided that made him feel unmoored and slightly anxious. Time had passed for all of them. He knew that. Yet it was still a shock to see it proven over and over again.

“I’ll take that as a good sign then. I brought you some food, since it’s been awhile since you have had any. And water. Maybe later, Healer Che could come and examine you?”

Qui Gon looked away from Obi Wan, wincing at the surge of sorrow that flowed through their bond, making Obi Wan make an unhappy noise.

“I’m sorry, Qui Gon. I...I’m still getting used to the bond being there. And your shields…”

Qui Gon looked up. What was wrong with his shields?

“You almost have none. I don’t even know if you can shield anymore.”

Obi Wan stated softly. He didn’t move as he watched the expression flit across the damaged planes of his Master’s face: Shock, surprise and finally sorrow.

Telegraphing his movements, he came closer and gently tilted Qui Gon’s face up to study it carefully.

Qui Gon wanted to quash the impulse to pull away and cover his face with the blanket. The mask he had worn was nowhere to be seen and even though he had hated it, he had been thankful for the shielding that it provided. His hair had been shorn short and close to his scalp, not giving him the option to hide behind the curtain of hair he dimly remembered having. He knew that in this reveal, it was different than with his Mas-Dooku. He could sense that Obi Wan only wanted to help him. He could sense his intentions clearly from their bond and he didn’t push him away when Obi Wan reached out to touch the ruin of his lower face.

Despite the shields he had thrown up before he came into the room, Qui Gon still got a fleeting sense of muted horror and sympathy when his fingers touched the thick, raised, and uneven scar tissue that snaked from the corners of Qui Gon’s mouth to his ears. His lower lip hadn’t escaped the mutilation, being horizontally bisected by an equally thick scarred line. Obi Wan touched the lines, four in all, with as much reverence and tenderness as he could muster. His Master had been mutilated by someone wielding a blade with far less care or concern.

He bit back a sob only barely as he tilted Qui Gon’s head from side to side to get a good look at the old wounds. They held no rhyme or reason for them. All four of them being made with the intent to maim and cause the maximum amount of pain. They had been crudely stitched and left to heal without the benefit of Bacta. They were made to hurt and Obi Wan wondered if they had been a punishment or to push Qui Gon towards the Dark Side.

If that had been the case, they had failed with the mutilation.

It also explained why Tyrannus had damaged Qui Gon’s vocal cords. No voice, no talking back. Coupled with the mental blocks and slapdash psychic manipulation; It was no surprise how Tyrannus and the separatists had kept his will from him and transform him into that deadly shadow of man.

A shadow that he knew beyond any doubt, Qui Gon would have never chosen to become out of his own free will.

There were more wounds all over Qui Gon’s body. He had seen them in the Halls of Healing, but he, like the others, had assumed that they had been from the same war that they had been fighting on opposite sides of. Yet now, seeing the scars that had been covered by the mask of General Scath, Obi Wan couldn’t help but to think that they may have been from other tortured visited upon Qui Gon. It filled him with sorrow and despair over what had been done to his Master as even more pieces of Qui Gon’s missing years fell into place.

He felt prickling in his eyes and he fought the tears that were on their way as hard as he possibly could, but they still came.

And were quickly dashed away by the rough, yet familiar hands he had known so well in his stint as an apprentice.

_“Why are you crying, Obi Wan?”_

Obi Wan closed his eyes and covered Qui Gon’s hands with his.

_“How could I not, Master? Seeing the evidence of what they did to you?’”_

Qui Gon made a soft noise.

_“Despite all I did? You’d have compassion for me?”_

Obi Wan opened his eyes and looked at Qui Gon.

_“How could I not have compassion for you, my Master?”_

Qui Gon shook his head, but he didn’t look as doubtful as he had when Obi Wan had said those words.

He didn’t say anything else, but Obi Wan didn’t mind.

This was more of a victory than he had ever anticipated getting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Obi Wan-I know he's super self-less, but I also do think he'd expend everything for those he loves, hence him pushing himself to the brink.  
> Qui Gon-He's coming back to himself and is only realising what he's done. He will have to deal with the fallout in the next chapter.  
> Qui Gon's Injuries-He's got the equivalent of the Glasgow Smile (Think Chibs from SOA) but much worse. His lower face is criss-crossed with scar tissue.  
> The others will come into play in the next while and there might be another chapter. Don't know yet.


	4. True Hearts Will Wipe the Tears Right From Your Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Council makes a decision and gives an order in a desperate gamble to end the war. A gamble that both Obi Wan and Qui Gon know to play, despite the cost that they will endure despite of it.

Obi Wan’s face was impassive as the doors to his quarters opened and Anakin stepped into the room. He wasn’t surprised. He had been expecting this visit ever since the orders from the Council had come in the latest batch of military dispatches. He was honestly surprised that Anakin had held off for that long, rather than marching right up to him and confronting him. 

Obi Wan was also glad that he had held off for so long as well. He had needed the time to come to terms with both the orders and the repercussions that they would have if they were followed or not. He had known what the course of action would be. It still didn’t make it any easier to accept in the cold, hard light of day. 

“When are we going into the field?”

Anakin demanded, his voice striving for nonchalant. The slight cracking gave away exactly how perturbed he was by the situation. Obi Wan understood how he was feeling, but he didn’t dare let himself have that luxury. They were at war and he was a General and as much as Satine and Tahl argued against the necessity of the task, it had to be done. 

“Three days. The Council decided that they can’t afford anymore losses. We need to draw out both Dooku and his Master. It has to end now.”

Obi Wan responded dully, his eyes suddenly burning with exhaustion as he relayed the information.

Anakin’s jaw worked and he nodded at the explanation. Yet Obi Wan could feel a flare in the Force that signalled Anakin was only just keeping control of that volcanic temper of his.

“And what did he say to the plan?”

Obi Wan stroked his chin. 

“He agrees.”

Anakin closed his eyes and said something in Hutteese that made him do a double take. 

“Does he have a death wish, then? Dooku will destroy him. He didn’t hesitate to do so with Ventress or Oppress.”

Obi Wan’s face paled at the names of their erstwhile enemies, but he refused to argue with Anakin. 

“As far as I know, he wants to live. He wants to  _ help _ . Qui Gon, wouldn’t be Qui Gon if he stood at the sidelines waiting for someone to fight his battles.”

Anakin’s face twisted with the fleeting impression of fond exasperation that passed all too quickly for Obi Wan to be sure that was what it was he felt. 

“And the worse the odds, the better?”

Anakin asked dryly, making Obi Wan give him a quick grin in return. 

“We can’t kriff it up, then.”

Obi Wan’s grin disappeared at that grim pronouncement. 

“No. We can’t. Everything has to move according to plan.Or at least have a backup in place when everything goes to kriffing sith hells.”

Anakin forced the smile, despite not being amused by that attempt at levity. 

“I don’t want to lose him like this. Forcing him to fight when he’s only just found himself again.”

Obi Wan’s face hardened at the sentiment that he wouldn’t- _ couldn’t _ \- let himself think of that possibility. Losing Qui Gon had wounded him deeply and he had pushed himself to survive, to take on Anakin and to keep on living. He didn’t dare think of what would happen if he were to give him up again. Whether he’d be able to do the same and still keep on moving as he had been. 

“We leave that to fate and to his sabre handling. That’s one constant we can definitely rely on.”

Obi Wan bit out tartly, making Anakin let out a sharp bark of unaffected laughter. They both had faced Qui Gon when he had been on the opposite side and could attest to the strength and skill with which he wielded his weapon. 

Despite the turmoil and blanks in his mind, Qui Gon was still able to fight. Possibly even better than he had in the past now that he had his heart back, as Anakin had put it after a sparring session had left him on his back with Qui Gon’s sabre at his throat for the third time in a row. Obi Wan himself hadn’t fared any better, but had refused to talk about the flush that crept up his neck and face after he had found himself in that exact position. 

There had been a change in the silent erstwhile Master’s eyes when he had helped Obi Wan up, a look in his dark blue eyes that was returned by Obi Wan himself. It was a look Anakin had recognised from earlier meetings with the Duchess. A flicker of an eyelid, a widening of the pupil. A light blush along the back of his neck and cheekbones. Faint, but still there. It made Anakin vaguely uncomfortable and awkward, as if he had stumbled upon an intimacy he wasn’t supposed to see.

It was then that he had realised Qui Gon had come back to his Master. Or as much as he was able to, since there were parts of him that wouldn’t ever come back. The emptiness, Anakin knew, would be smoothed over the longer he was away from Darth Tyrannus and the Separatists. But they wouldn’t ever return. Even without the delicate touch of his Master, Anakin could sense the irretrievable losses of self that Qui Gon had endured. 

“It’s the rest of us that should worry then.”

He added lightly, not wanting to break the mood just yet. Reality would come soon enough. 

Obi Wan’s eyes narrowed at that. 

“It won’t come to that.”

Anakin only raised an eyebrow, but said nothing to the sharp pronouncement. 

~*~*~*~*~

Qui Gon sighed as he pulled on the old armour, feeling as if he was suffocating under the black and heavy material. Yet he still put it on, remembering the way that each piece went on and in what order, until all that was left was the cloak and the sabre clipped to his belt. 

He didn’t look at himself in the mirror and notice how well Qui Gon Jinn slipped into the mask of General Scath. He was afraid that to do so would shatter the composure and the small bit of sanity that he had hard fought to achieve with Obi Wan and Anakin’s help. Mostly Obi Wan, but he couldn’t be uncharitable and deny that Anakin also had a hand in keeping him grounded when Obi Wan had reached the end of his stamina.

There were places in his mind that Obi Wan couldn’t get too close, but Anakin  _ could. _ It had built enough of a bond between them to build a tentative trust that would at least hold in battle. Neither of them could quite forget what they both had seen each other do on the battlefield. Even if they had an alliance at the time, memory wasn’t so easily reconciled to what they had been to each other a short time prior to his rescue ( _ release _ ).

He shakes his head and leaves the room. They could be attacked anytime soon and he needs to be with the convoys and the 212th. It had been decided this was the best option, since Dooku wouldn’t ever believe that Anakin and the 501th would have been able to capture him. It had to be Obi Wan’s battalion that would bear the brunt of it all. 

He felt bad about it, in a detached way that he hadn’t been able to shake off as of yet. His connection with the Living Force was still muted and muffled and despite missing it; the absence of it was a blessing at this moment. He didn’t think he’d be able to go through with his orders if it had been. So he moved out of the medical hall quarters he had exclusively occupied for those weeks before following the blurred signature of Obi Wan. 

He found him quickly, relishing the last soft look in Obi Wan’s eyes before the cool and impenetrable mask of the General slipped into place. The Duchess stood next to him, her expression cool and remote and unreadable to Qui Gon. She didn’t look at him as she left with her retinue. 

He didn’t take it personally. He had been their nightmare for almost a decade. He understood. 

Obi Wan’s lips pressed together and he moved forward to look at Qui Gon.

_ “Come back to us, that’s all I can ask of you.” _

Qui Gon gave him a quick nod before he felt the connection close, giving him a split second pang of fear and loneliness before it was smothered. He wasn’t quite General Scath, but had inhabited the mindset long enough to fall into it as several clones put cuffs on him and took his lightsaber. He missed the weight of it and instinctively fought against his bonds before the suggestion of calmness washed over him and he stood passively waiting for what was to come next.

The splitting headache behind his eyes told him exactly what it was that was coming next. 

Then it felt like the world had just exploded in a million pieces at once. 

His Master was here.

~*~*~*~*~

Anakin shouted as he cut down yet more droids as they poured out onto the planet. Wave after wave of them, their only goal being to get to Scath, who was being held in place by a battalion while Obi Wan. Screams and the sounds of blasters going off surrounded him, filling almost all of his senses as he fought his way onto the cruiser that fairly reeked of darkness. He could sense Ahsoka somewhere to his left, fighting with grim determination as Master Unduli cut a swath through the other droids coming at them.

He grit his teeth and pushed with the Force, clearing enough space to get to where the largest cluster of droids and clones were, fighting what was clearly the decisive battle to end the war. He cut a swath through them and bolted towards the fray in front of him. He had to help, or else everything would be kriffed up and Scath would return. Possibly worse than ever. He turned to look at the aforementioned Scath and cursed softly.

Scath was struggling as he fought off the Force suggestion that Obi Wan had implanted on him. Anakin put on a burst of Force speed to get to Obi Wan, who was having a hell of a time holding Ventress back, who was doing the same service for Tyrannus. Ventress was winning,while Tyrannus just looked determined to get his prized weapon back. 

Anakin slammed through the last of the Droids and pushed Ventress back, giving Obi Wan the opening he needed to engage Tyrannus. He pushed forward, forcing Tyrannus into a retreat towards the ship, but he couldn’t hold the attacks any longer. And Anakin couldn’t help him. 

Not with Ventress to deal with. She gave him a close mouthed smirk as she slashed at him, forcing him to go into the defensive. He sent a wave of encouragement towards Obi Wan and grit his teeth to focus on his own battle. 

~*~*~*~

Obi Wan refused to be intimidated by how close Tyrannus was to Scath, who seemed to be reacting strongly to the presence of his former Master. He could see the sweat breaking out in his forehead, plastering his hair to his skull as he fought the mind control Tyrannus was exerting on him even as he fought Obi Wan. This pushed Obi Wan to exert himself further, his fear of Qui Gon’s mental state giving him the strength to force Tyrannus away from Scath and buy him time. 

Neither of them spoke as they fought to gain the upper hand over the other. Obi Wan was forced to work for that advantage, since he wasn’t a close quarter fencer like Tyrannus was. He was all too aware of his favoured form and didn’t fancy losing any limbs to him. So he kept his distance, but got in hits whenever possible, frustrating the man to cloud his mind and force him into a mistake. 

Tyrannus did just that, impatiently rushing towards Scath, who had managed to get his cuffs open and grab the lightsaber that Ahsoka throws at him in that moment, turning it on to reveal a green blade.

_ “Go!” _

Scath was gone. Qui Gon Jinn had returned.

It was a mere moment in time, but that was all it took for Tyrannus to lose his grip and composure. He stumbled and tried to flee, but it was too late.

Qui Gon’s sabre cuts through the air and Tyrannus’ hands fall to the ground. 

_ “It is over. Count Dooku, you’re under arrest.” _

The words are rough, cracked, and low, but they are understandable among the sudden silence that has fallen over the battlefield. 

The war was done.

~*~*~*~*~

Obi Wan had stumbled back to his quarters later than he had hoped he would have, but he didn’t have a choice in the matter. Tyrannus and Ventress were handed over to the Council, both seeking clemency in exchange for all of the plans of the separatists and Darth Sidious. The Council, after much deliberation, had agreed and Obi Wan had left them discussing terms and plans. 

Anakin and Ahsoka had disappeared after Ventress had revealed the existence of the chips and Order 66. 

As for Qui Gon…

“Duchess Satine.”

Obi Wan murmured when he entered his quarters to reveal the Duchess, who stood up smoothly from the chair she had occupied and moved towards Obi Wan. She stopped in front of him, but her hands remained resolutely clasped in front of her waist. Obi Wan raised an eyebrow at the distance between them, but forebode to comment on it.

He was too tired and shocked over the gamble that had paid off. The war, that interminable and almost futile war was at an end. They had found the Sith in their midst and hopefully stop the Republic from crumbling into oblivion just yet.

And Qui Gon was returned to him.

She smiled at him, but her eyes were remote and sad and so filled with regret as she looked at him. 

“We always had horrible timing, didn’t we, Obi Wan?”

She asked lightly, belying the deep sorrow in her eyes. Obi Wan wanted to refute the statement, yet when the brightness of the bond he shared with Qui Gon sharpened to a true green, he knew she was speaking the truth. If Qui Gon hadn’t been found, they wouldn’t have had this conversation. Even though he wasn’t sure of the exact depth of Qui Gon’s feelings for him, there was no future between himself and Satine. 

Not in the way that she had wanted or envisioned. 

He opened his mouth to speak, but instead found himself kissing her, losing himself in the taste of her and the feel of her mouth on his. He could have gotten used to this, he knew he could have definitely done so. But it wouldn’t be fair to love her only half-heartedly, with the rest of him loving someone he thought was in a grave but was only hidden ( _ stolen) _ from him. 

“Goodbye, Obi Wan. May you find your happiness and may it last.”

~*~*~*~*~

Qui Gon had just come out of the shower and was only clad in a loose robe and slow slung sleep trousers when he answered the doors to his quarters. 

His eyes widened when he saw it was Obi Wan standing on the other side of the door. He was utterly surprised to see him there, since he had assumed that he would be busy with the Council, the clean up, and the Duchess Kryze. He had seen, in the few times that he had been deemed stable enough to be out of his rooms, the looks that had been exchanged between Obi Wan and the Duchess Kryze.

He had exchanged those looks in the past with Tahl. He recalled that as if something he had seen on a holovid or read on a datapad. It was remembered, but the feelings weren’t there. Tahl had loved a different man that simply didn’t exist anymore and he had grieved him with her. She had ensconced herself into the Archives after that, according to Anakin and Qui Gon made sure to never darken that area of the Temple. 

Maybe when the wounds weren’t as fresh, it could be a possibility. But until then, he would visit the training salles with Anakin, the canteen, and the Medical halls. Maybe Obi Wan’s quarters when he wasn’t busy. Whenever that would be. 

Something that was sooner than he had expected, judging by the still worse for the wear Obi Wan who stood at his doorstep,with a raised eyebrow.

“Aren’t you going to let me in?”

Qui Gon blushed and moved to let Obi Wan enter. He went to the kitchenette and put the kettle on. He rummaged in the cupboards and came across a new container of a mild and floral tea that tugged at a memory that involved Obi Wan. In what capacity, he didn’t know or find that out. It was yet another blank again.

He sighed and moved away from the cupboard. It would get easier in time. He knew that. It didn’t stop it from being frustrating, though.

He pulled out mugs and put tea in them, not startling when he heard Obi Wan walking into the living area and sit down. He raised his gaze from his task and took in the lines of exhaustion in his face and shoulders. 

He yearned to ease the burden on Obi Wan’s shoulders and ease his hurts. Qui Gon wanted to see him smile the same way he had when he had turned thirteen and he had received the singing stone…

He paused in making the tea, his eyes widening at the memory that had come unbidden to him. 

He didn’t realise that he had made any sort of noise until Obi Wan looked up.

“Qui Gon? Is everything alright?”

Concern came through the shields they had managed to erect before the battle and Qui Gon nodded. 

“ _ I was simply wondering if you still had the singing stone I gave you on your thirteenth birthday, that was all.” _

Obi Wan’s eyes widened and his mouth trembled as he fought to rein in the emotion that the simple question had brought forth in him. He opened his mouth to reply, to reassure Qui Gon that it was still with him, but he was too overwrought at the realisation that not everything that they had shared in the past was gone. 

There was hope that more of the Master he knew would come back. Not all of it was hopeless or lost. 

There was hope there, he realised as he watched Qui Gon come to him and kneel down in front of him, his dark blue eyes focused on Obi Wan’s face with such tenderness and empathy that it made his control snap.

His shoulders slumped and he collapsed, his face buried in his hands as he let the emotions burst forth from the damn that had held them back all those years. He was so worn down, so tired and so hopeless that he offered no resistance to having his hands gently pulled away, his tears wiped away and a soft kiss being pressed to his forehead before he was gathered up in Qui Gon’s arms and held as if he was the most delicate and most precious treasure in all of the galaxies.

Oh little gods had he missed the feel of his Master’s arms around him! The comfort of his strength and the warm, homey scent of him! How much had he longed for this? How had he longed for this?

He felt like he had waited lifetimes for this to happen and it was only just now sinking it that it finally had.

_ “You don’t have to wait any longer, Padawan mine. I am here again. You’re not alone now.” _

His grip tightened on the robe and Obi Wan dared to let himself believe it.

Just this once, he’d let himself believe it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a challenge to myself to have less introspection and more action between the characters. The ending is left open and ambiguous since what Qui Gon and Obi Wan are facing has no actual beginning or end.   
> Satine and Tahl-I really disliked them both being fridged to further the manpain, so they are still alive here and probably more aware of how Obi Wan and Qui Gon feel about each other than they do.   
> Qui Gon-He's not simple, just pretty vague and still retains a lot of his skills even though who he was isn't all there and he is fully aware of the Council's machinations. He's also not fully dealt with his past actions and is more focused on getting stuff done than searching through his insides here.   
> Obi Wan-He's as ruthless as you would suspect from a battle hardened, battle weary and grieving general. He too, refuses to process Qui Gon's return.   
> Anakin-Not as dark as in other incarnations, not quite as dark and still has a shot at redemption.  
> Sequel-Maybe a one shot later on. I was more interested in exploring a killing machine regaining his humanity a bit at a time and getting both some happiness and reconciliation.


End file.
